Preface This book and its pictures are an invitation to travel with me deep into the jungles of India to the secluded world of the Muria, tribal people that live in Bastar district of the state of Chhattisgarh. It will be a journey through space and time. For it all started 34 years ago and far away from India... In early spring 1978 I was sitting in the German National Library in Frankfurt. Books about different destinations in Asia covered my table as I was preparing a trip around the world that I would start later that year. One of those books caught my attention. It depicted some b&w photos of dark-skinned young boys and girls wearing strange and fancy attire much as in my introductory picture above. On a first quick scan I read about quite unbelievable things: a kingdom of the young were they live according to their own rules, untroubled by adults, free in their sexual relations with frequent change of partners being the rule… I doubted that this could be real. The book in question was Verrier Elwin's elaborate anthropological study 'The Muria and Their Ghotul', published in 1947. It became the first academic book I ever read from the beginning to its very end. Then I decided to set off for the jungles of Bastar.
1980 I was assigned by the German magazine ‘Geo’ to write an article about the Muria and my stay at the ghotul. In the end, however, my report was rejected by reason of ‘too loaded with sexual content’. I did not take another effort of publishing and the material stayed locked off in my private archive. Until in 2010 I presented my photos together with an explanatory text at my site of the Flickr photo community. The feedback was quite surprising and as I notice a continuing flow of links from search-engines to these photos I decided now to republish the Flickr version in this condensed and easy-to-read photo book style. Visitors to my site contributed with comments and questions and I will include some of my answers of this discussion ‘off the record’ in my descriptive text. When I was in Bastar I was fortunate to meet and join forces with Professor Roderic Knight from Oberlin College who was out to sample pieces of Muria music. Some links to small samples of his recordings will be included in the following pages.
Copyright 2013 by Collin Key Contact: firstname.lastname@example.org 2
The ghotul of Remawand village 3
Kingdom of the Young The Muria cherish their youth. In the villages the young people have a house of their own - the ghotul - where they gather in the evenings and enjoy their time; boys and girls together; without any supervising adults. The girls of the ghotul are called ‘motiari’ and the boys ‘chelik’. Once they enter the ghotul - usually before puberty - each youngster will receive a secret ghotul name. The boys and girls elect a leader for each respective group called ‘sirdar’ and ‘belosa’. Together they ensure that the rules of the house are observed by everyone. For the ghotul, as Elwin describes, is no place of disorder. Each member has certain social tasks assigned which have to be carried out. The ghotul is also the youth dormitory of the village. The motiari and chelik enjoy sexual freedom. This does not mean, though, that there are no rules or taboos. While at some places permanent couples used to pair off this is described even at the times of Elwin as a practice outdated. Thus at most ghotuls partners are changed on a regular basis - and this is a must! The sirdar and belosa will oversee that no jealousy or preferences on the basis of looks or popularity will arise. Once they get married the Muria have to leave the ghotul. From now on they will lead a normal and monogamous family life. Adultery is strictly disapproved of. Marriage often takes place between cousins and is strongly discouraged between couples that have been members of the same ghotul. It is said that exceptional romantic affairs do occur but are not the rule as the ghotul system encourages intimacy and friendship between all the youngsters rather than between exclusive couples. David Orr, a recent visitor to the Muria who reported about his journey on the Internet (source now unavailable), quotes a motiari about this topic: “If a boy and girl fall in love, then they must leave the ghotul. They may marry if their parents allow it. Or they may come back to the ghotul if they accept a punishment and agree to give each other up.” 4
Chelik and motiari 5
The ghotul - the Muria call it their ‘kingdom of the young.’ It is the place where young boys and girls meet at the evenings after having worked through the day together with their families. Youth houses and dormitories are common among tribal people throughout the world. But whereas elsewhere they often function as the meeting and training point for the young warriors-to-be - and are strictly off limits for women - the girls of the Muria take active part in ghotul life. They elect their own leader, the belosa, who together with the sirdar, the leader of the boys, ensures the order of the house. The Muria consider their ghotul a sacred place founded by God Lingo Pen. There is no ‘sin’ in the ghotul as LingoPen himself taught the Muria its ways of conduct. Besides this the ghotul functions as the public place of every village in case of festivities or special meetings. And it is the guest house of the village. So in January 1979 Professor Roderic Knight of Oberlin College, who conducted a field trip exploring tribal music, and I enjoyed the privilege of being guests for four days at the depicted ghotul in the village of Remawand. The quality of the photo below is no good but I want to show it because it illustrates the wonderful intimate familiarity between the young chelik (boys) and motiari (girls) huddled against each other behind a door while looking at me with curiosity and - as it seems to me - some suspicion. For this they have good reason. Sexual relations between unmarried youngsters are quite a scandal in the eyes of the rather prudish Indian society that surrounds their world. And the strange curiosity of the few Westerners they will ever meet is not inspiring much confidence either. So they usually do what seems most intelligent in this situation: leave intimate questions unanswered. 6
And even if they gave answers - we would not have heard them. For the Muria speak Gond, a language the non-tribal Indians don’t understand. Of course we had a translator. But then, what would he tell us...? I remember one evening when we were sitting in the ghotul together with our translator – a Muslim guy – chatting and smoking the self made cigarettes of the chelik which they had offered us. They also shared their palm wine with us so we were mildly drunk when he suddenly pointed at me. “You”, he complained, “are asking so many questions which are ... too difficult.” It was obvious what he was hinting at. “But as a journalist it is nothing but my duty to do so” I defended myself. He struggled to sit straight and exclaimed pathetically: “And as a decent Indian man and good Muslim it is my duty to give you … wrong answers.” Off the record I have been asked two questions: 1) Isn’t this quite a rigid regime with the sirdar and belosa forcing the other kids to change partners all the time? No, it is not. Consider that the sirdar and belosa are no grim educators but part of the crowed themselves and the most popular ones at that. And the village youth is not under compulsion to attend the ghotul. It is a free choice. 2) Isn’t this all rather a fairy tale? Yes and no. When I arrived in Bastar in ‘79 I really did not expect to find anything left of what Elwin described. But I did. And recent reports affirm that the tradition is still alive. With one exception, however. Indian movie maker Shyam Benegal reported the magazine Anokhi in 2010 from his trip to Bastar: “Unfortunately, the Ghotul has entirely disappeared from the community life of the Murias.” Elwin already noted in 1947 the reluctance of the Chelik and Motiari to disclose their ways of life to outsiders. This had obviously not changed at the time of our stay. It may well be surmised that Mr. Benegal fell into the same trap of their ‘strategy of defensive denial’. But then all these descriptions (mine too, of course) are more or less accounts of an ideal type always focused on a few aspects (and partly copied from each other). But reality is much more complex and it will differ from village to village. The Muria do not live isolated but their world is deeply interweaved with that of the surrounding Indian society. Life is a constant flux. 8
Legend has it that God Lingo Pen, founder of the ghotul, also taught the young people the art of music. He invented 18 instruments which he bestowed upon his chelik and motiari - the iron jawâ€™s harp is one of them. It is virtually identical to the European form of the instrument.
Young boy playing the kach tehendor (jawâ€™s harp). 9
For the ghotul kids adolescence is a time of laughter and happiness - not of weary fights and arguments with parents and teachers. This untroubled life in â€˜the kingdom of the youngâ€™, however, ends abruptly at the time of marriage which the motiari see as quite an ambivalent event as is revealed by their songs. For years they have been living freely among their friends and may have had relations with many boys. But now, at the day of marriage, they have to leave and follow a young man they might barely know into a strictly monogamous marital life. Traditionally the boy they marry will have been chosen by the parents long beforehand and intimate relations between the future bride and groom are strictly avoided. And so they sing rather melancholically in one of their wedding songs (Marmi Pata) which Rod has recorded: Stretching her cupped hands out towards the road, she walks from the ghotul. Friends, in this manner she will leave the ghotul. She did not know or care about home duties before marriage. But after marriage she will do her duties well.â€? 10
His axe was the pride of this boy. He always carried it around with himself. He was one of the younger chelik in the ghotul of Remawand. The tool had been forged by the smith of his village - and even the iron had been smelted locally. The Muria blacksmiths master the technique of melting the metal from the ore of local earth in clay blast furnaces of about half a manâ€™s height. Besides the smith there was also a potterâ€™s family living in Remawand. Elwin says in his study that as a rule the kids of such craftsmen will not attend the local ghotul. In any case it is not an obligation for the village kids to become a ghotul member. A girl might feel too shy to go there or a school kid may decide that this kind of education rules out the other. At the time of our visit, however, most kids we met did not go to any school at all. The ghotul was their sole place of education.
The God At the outskirts of the village Remawand we meet God Lingo Pen, the founder and protector of all ghotuls, resting in the golden light of a late afternoon. A little shrine houses his statue carved from wood and resting on a palanquin. Four bearers will carry him at times of festivities. I remember Elwin narrating that at times when some unexplainable problems occur - like diseases - the bearers will stumble in trance with the God on their shoulders leading them to the source of the malady – possibly the house of a witch or warlock. It was Lingo Pen who provided the youth of the Muria with a house of their own, their ghotul, and taught them the rules of how to live in it. He also instructed them how to play music - the song in his honour is the Hulki. Furthermore it is said that he also protects the girls from unwanted pregnancy. You may doubt the efficiency of a God’s protection in such matters. But you would probably not confide in most other convictions either concerning this matter which Elwin mentions – as e.g. the belief that frequent change of partners has contraceptive effects. In recent reports, however, I also found mentioned natural methods of birth control among the tribe which might get us closer to an explanation acceptable to Western minds. Whatever the case may be, it seems a fact that pregnancy is of rather rare occurrence in ghotul life. And definitely it is unwanted. For the couples of the ghotul are not meant to be partners for later marriage. Usually this aspect of life has been settled by the parents long beforehand. And a pregnancy will make long and difficult negotiations necessary - most probably ending with some compensation to be paid by the girl’s family to that of the proposed partner. Off the record I have been asked if the Muria are from African origin. No, they are pure Indian. They are part of the Gond speaking people and Gond is a language within the Dravidian family. Other Dravidian languages are e.g. Tamil (Tamil Nadu), Telugu (Andhra Pradesh) and Malayalam (Kerala). While the people of north India belong to the Indo-European language family the South is Dravidian. The people there tend to be of a darker complexion. 12
God Lingo Pen 13
The Dances Music and dance are essential to Muria life and the chelik and motiari of the ghotul are the only performers. Thus the ghotul stands in the focus of the traditional Muria culture and it is the youngsters who ensure its survival. What a great task for boys and girls that have not yet passed puberty... Wearing their bison horn head gear with a veil of cowrie shells covering their faces the mandri drummers of Nayanar village stage quite a dramatical performance. Part of it is folklore though. For the bison horn dance is actually a tradition of the neighbouring Dandami Maria tribe. It was a school teacher living in Nayanar who started some serious dance training with the youngsters. He also arranged for the elaborate costumes. The dance group of Nayanar became quite famous and was often compelled by local politicians to perform for visiting dignitaries seeking an ‘evening at the ghotul’. In 1975 they even got an award for a performance they gave at Republic Day ceremonies in Delhi. While the 70’s were marked by a certain trend of commercializing the ghotul performances in Nayanar and some other villages it seems that in the following years this was met with some reluctance. It is reported that in the early 80’s ghotul leaders had voted to refuse to perform for political dignitaries at the district capital Jagdalpur. Resentment against outside performance was obviously growing. And today? In his report from 2005 David Orr recalls a visit in Deogaon where he was told that most of the girls had left for a performance in Delhi. So outside performance is obviously still going on. At the next village he visited, however, he found ghotul life still intact and not reduced to a folkloristic event. One feature of their performing art that specially appeals to the young chelik and motiari is the fact that it gives them the opportunity for excursions. No, I don’t mean the occasional gigs in front of complacent dignitaries which I talked about before. But at the time when the harvest is brought in and there is not much to do on the fields the young boys and girls prepare for leaving their ghotul. Both genders do this separately. They will visit the ghotul of neighbouring villages, perform their songs and dances and spend whatever rest of the night will be left at their hosts’ dormitory. This is a time of anxious excitement, of joking and chatting, of frolic and laughter - and maybe of some romantic romance, too. The more so as the visiting girls will probably meet only the 14
The drummers enter the scene at Nayanar ghotul while the girls have formed a line receiving them with the rhythm of their dance sticks (jagar) One of the drum songs is the Geri Endana.
neighbour chelik while the motiari of that place will be either on tour themselves or sleep at home that night - and vice versa. I have not seen such excursions with my own eyes but this is how Elwin described them. Another feature of the ghotul namely that it serves as the guest house of the villages can be ascertained first-hand as we ourselves were hosted at the ghotul of Remawand. But in this case only the boys stayed overnight with us while the girls preferred to spend those nights at home. Elwin noted that guests who stay too long will face a certain reluctance from the side of the youngsters. And in fact I had exactly that feeling after our third - and last - night in the ghotul of Remawand. One can’t blame them to prefer the presence of their girls after all... Off the record: School education Another photo that is spoiled but I think I have to show it anyhow. This boy appeared in front of Remawand ghotul one afternoon and we were told that he is the only village boy attending a boarding school. Instead of commenting this myself I rather want to cite Madhu Ramnath who works as ethnobotanist in the area. In 2001 he expressed his deep frustration about the state of school education among the tribal people in an article published in the Internet: “To live and teach in adivasi [tribal] region requires special qualities: openness, an interest in other cultures, a sense of inquiry and immense energy. In my two decades of travel in Bastar, I have yet to come across a government schoolteacher who fulfills these requirements, even partially.”
Generally private schools as of Hindu or Christian Missions enjoy a higher reputation than public schools in India. But, asks Ramnath polemically, “... do they show any interest in adivasi society? Is it their concern that makes them change adivasi names...? Has anyone seen a school-going adivasi boy with long hair ... or an adivasi schoolgirl without a plait? These schools impose Hindi on students, forbidding the various ... dialects... Few teachers, if any, speak adivasi languages. These schools alienate adivasi youth from their society, creating prejudices. This shows in the adivasi boys who refuse to return to their forest villages during vacations. They are ashamed to acknowledge their parents and their adivasi background, attempting at becoming poor imitations of the non-tribal. These schools distance adivasi children from the forest as a place of learning. Few years at school are enough for adivasi children to develop a tendency to shirk physical labour: day-scholars become burdens on their families.”
Off the record: Crooked limbs Like tribal people throughout the world the Muria are likely to become an object of either curiosity and romantic glorification or downright contempt. Let me narrate an episode of our field trip as an example which also highlights the canny way the adivasi dealt with this. The newly-posted Tribal Development Officer invited Rod and me to an excursion to some villages of the Hill Maria [no typo here] within the Abujhmar mountains, a really wild region not accessible even by jeep and an area of retreat for the last surviving tigers and black panthers. This young officer was the only administrator I met who was absolutely enthusiastic about his posting to Bastar. I think he viewed his new assignment as a kind of great adventure trip. Our party included the officer’s wife, the Chief Engineer and a number of junior officers and servants. After having been set over the Indravati river we arrived at our first destination, the village of Lanka at the foot of the jungle mountains. A hasty meeting with the village elders was arranged. The discussion seemed to get somewhat heated, especially on the side of the officials, but neither Rod nor I understood the language. Later then the Engineer put us in the picture. “They are so stupid!” he exclaimed. “We ask them: ‘Do you want us to build a bridge over the river?’ and they answer: ‘If the government wants to build a bridge over the river, the government will build a bridge over the river.’ And we ask again but they only keep repeating this nonsense phrase.” And he added: “They are not rational. What can we do but treat them like children?” Obviously he craved for our consent (while I could not but feel there was a certain truth within the tribals’ words). Later on the Engineer gave us a lengthy lecture of the ancient Indian science of Yoga and how its superior methods were apt to solve the world’s problems... Rod had been promised some music performance for the evening. As this was January it had become quite cold by then and while we squatted around the campfire no singers seemed to appear. Nevertheless the servants were sent out and soon they reappeared with some of the youth in tow. And they did perform though obviously with some reluctance. A year or so later Rod had the text of his recordings translated. In their language which neither we nor the officers could understand those village youngsters had made up songs of spontaneous mocking lines. “Tire tire agna bati tirere; Kore kore na babuloke kore le” – “Our visitors have crooked limbs; they walk as if lame; their lips are [ugly] red.” 18
Motiari with jagar while the boys dance on stilts 19
A young girl carrying her even younger brother on her hips, a grandfather giving shelter to his little granddaughter - the tender care with which the little children among the onlookers of the ghotul dances were treated was both striking and heartwarming. Although the ghotul is the kingdom of the young this does not mean that elders canâ€™t enter it e.g. on the occasion of festivities. Generally the Muria seem to be rather pragmatic with regard to rules. Some chelik might be so popular that he is a welcome visitor even after his marriage. From what I have heard, however, girls will not return for the evening gatherings once they are wedded. And Elwin relates that the youngsters will likely get fed up if some grown-up canâ€™t bring himself to leave the fun ground of his youth. Thus the other chelik might well get into action - stealing a fowl from his house or some other pranks alike will probably do the trick. 20
Child care 21
Everyday Life Life is not only pleasure but also work. During the day the young folk have to help their elders with their daily work. The motiari are said to leave the ghotul before sunrise to join their families and help out their mothers with their early morning work while the chelik might start it a bit more leisurely. The Muria are mainly farmers and ploughing the field behind two buffaloes needs strong arms. This boy does his work quite early so to avoid the burning heat of the rising sun.
Hunting with bow and arrow is still prevalent though in these days more an affair of fun than of need.
Since the days of the Raj (British empire) the jungles have lost lots of their density and many animals like the tiger and black panther have moved away to more remote areas of Bastar district like the Abujhmar mountains.
Off the Record: Building a bridge Remember the Maria of Lanka saying: “If the government wants to build a bridge over the river, the government will build a bridge over the river”? I was granted an interview with some senior administrator of the sub-district of Narayanar. I forgot his exact position but remember him as a chubby good-humoured man who seemed to delight in the interest of the foreign press (see me smiling while I write this? I was in my early 20’s and not actually on any official assignment.) Anyway, we had been nicely chatting away for quite a while when suddenly a man entered the room with a load of files in his hands. The following discussion took place in Hindi thus not understandable to me. But I could tell that it was heating up with every sentence finally ending with my friendly host furiously yelling at the other man in a high pitched voice who then left the office with a subservient gesture. My interview partner sank back into the chair behind his huge desk, took a deep breath, looked up and – smiled at me again. Friendly and calm as before he commenced: “I will explain to you what happened. This junior officer comes in here asking me to sign his files. ‘What matter?’ I ask him. And he answers: ‘The projected bridge.’” He pauses for a moment and examines me with a cunning look. “Well, this bridge...” – rising his voice – “has been projected years ago! Since then everything has changed, prizes have gone up. The budgeted costs will certainly be exceeded. And if I sign this now I will be the one to be blamed!” “So what did you tell him then?” I asked. “I told him to bring the files back to where he got them from.” A broad and triumphant smile crossed his face. And then he confided in me with the wisdom of a long administrative career. “The art of administration,” he exclaimed, “is just that: when someone throws you a ball – pass it immediately!” P.S. I tried Google Earth but could not find any bridge near Lanka. But then, it might be hard to make out from outer space...
These two girls are fetching water from a nearby well. I took this photo in the warm sunlight of a late afternoon. It looks idyllic. Yet carrying water over quite a distance is hard work...
Some of the most enjoyable events of every day Muria life are the local markets. Men and women come from far to display their goods, have a chat, drink some self made palm wine and exchange the latest news. Last but not least this is where the popular (and bloody) cockfights take place. Muria women in general and motiari in particular love to dress up - and market days are the right occasions for it. Muria girls wear colorful cloth, bangles, anklets, necklaces and most prominently lots of fancy adornments in their hair. Everything decorative will find a place in the pinned up black strands as with this woman whom I photographed on her way to the weekly market of Narayanpur town. Of special significance, however, are the combs they wear. Well, nowadays most of what you see are cheap and shiny plastic combs. But in old times those combs were carved from wood by the chelik who would offer them to their favourite motiari. To wear many combs in her hair used to be a cause of special pride to every Muria girl... The rare occasion that I ever saw a Muria girl with open hair - I spoiled it. Yet I always liked this dreamy image out of focus as it may be. I had been photographing scenes of family life outside of her parentsâ€™ house. She and her mother were doing each otherâ€™s hair in the fading light of late afternoon. For a few moments I got distracted by some younger kids playing. Then I looked up again and saw her thus...
As with other tribal people the Muria women, too, wear tattoos on faces, shoulders, arms and other parts of the body They, however, are not only considered as beauty marks but bear a spiritual significance as well. Making them is rather painful and I remember Elwin relating a number of myths explaining why it had to be done. One of them – which stuck to my mind for obvious reasons I guess – explains tattooing as a kind of penance for primordial women who then had their vaginas equipped with... teeth. ‘Vagina dentata’ is in fact a myth not uncommon in Asia – and not unknown in our part of the world either – Sigmund Freud talks about it within the context of fear of castration in his Psychoanalytic Theory.
Off the record: Labour Traditional tribal life is embedded into an economy not based on money. Statistically they are poor. But this is just numbers and does not make their life any less rich. The very moment, however, they want to partake in the luxuries of the ‘civilized’ world they have to step into the modern economy and earn money. Here their native skills won’t count much. The hardest and least paid labour will usually be reserved for them. They will have money but now they will be poor. Really poor, not only statistically. Like this Muria woman whom I found toiling at a road construction site while the Indian foreman kept a vigil eye on her. 28
Epilogue: The undeclared War One of the most threatening developments that has taken place in Bastar since my stay in 1979 is the Naxalite insurgency and the Operation Green Hunt. The Naxalites are a group of radical Maoist communists that started an insurgency as far back as 1967 in the village of Naxalbari in West-Bengal (hence their name). Through the years they have spread their activities to several states in the east of India, mainly remote and poor rural areas. From what I read they try to bring villages under their control establishing a clandestine administration in accordance with their ideological beliefs. The district of Bastar, where the Muria live, is one of the most affected areas. As can be expected, they are said to be opposed to traditional features like the Ghotul life. In 2009 the Indian forces seem to have started a massive counter operation called ‘Green Hunt’. I use the word ‘seem’ for the government officially denies this and never uses the term. But the press is free in India, so let me quote an article of the renowned paper ‘The Hindu’ from February 2010: “An operation is underway in Central India, but no one really knows what it is… Privately, sources in the security apparatus admit that part of the confusion is by design rather than by default to control the information available to Naxal commanders. At present, the only information independently confirmed by The Hindu relates to the Bastar Zone, a 40,000 square kilometre area in Chhattisgarh that lies at heart of the battle.” And as to the effect on the local people The Hindu concludes: “In a police operation with no clear name, timeline or goal, fought against a guerrilla force that rarely wears uniforms, the adivasis [tribal people] are learning that each side extracts a heavy price for supporting the other.” Fighting keeps going on as can be seen from a clip of journalist Akash Banerjee on Youtube. While he highlights the government’s anti-insurgency measures former novelist Arundhati Roy joined the Naxalite fighters for a long walk through the jungle and a report from within.
The shaman 31
Postscript It was January 3 of the year 1979. I went to bed early that day. For what else could I do in that dull little town Narayanpur in the middle of a remote district called Bastar which the Madhya Pradesh government preferably used for disciplinary transfers? I was in a very depressed mood. For days I had been trying to provide for the means of visiting the tribal villages with the aid of local administrators - to absolutely no avail. I was surrounded by the Muria world and could not reach it. You can't just take the next local bus to a tribal village. Most of them lay far off the road and it takes a jeep or a long hike to reach them. You need a translator, your own food if planning to stay, gifts for the villagers… not to forget an invitation in the first place. I fell into a restless doze when I suddenly heard my name being called. I pushed the pillow on my head trying to shoo away those imaginary voices. I heard it again. And again. This wasn’t an Indian accent. But I knew I was absolutely the only western person in town and doubted my sanity. Just to make sure I got up and opened the door. Outside Roderic was standing, smilingly. "I have heard in Jagdalpur" - about 200 kilometres away! - "that you are out here on a field trip" he said matter-of-factly. "Same with me,” he added. “I think we might work together." Yes, together we made it :) Thank you, Rod!
Professor Roderic Knight fully equipped for the field trip
Some further reading: Verrier Elwin: The Muria and their ghotul. Oxford University Press, 1947. Verrier Elwin: The Kingdom of the Young. Oxford University Press, 1968. [Abridged version of The Muria and their Ghotul]. Simeran Man Singh Gell: The Ghotul in Muria Society, Harwood Academic, 1992. Ruby Gupta: A kingdom of the unmarried, 2002, http://www.tribuneindia.com/2002/2002030 Regina Ray: Aus der Mitte Indiens, Manuskript für Bayrischer Rundfunk (BR2), 2005, http://www.reginaray.de/ausdermitteindiens.htm Ajit Bhattarcharjea: Bastar Diary, Outlook India, 1999, http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?208534 K.L. Kamat: The Ghotul System of Education, 2002, www.kamat.com/kalranga/bastar/ghotul.htm Madhu Ramnath: Miseducation in Bastar, India Environmental Portal, 2003, http://www.indiaenvironmentportal.org.in/node/12685 Chris Curling: The Muria, 30 minutes documentary film, The Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland (RAI), 1982, http://www.therai.org.uk/film/volume-ii-contents/the-mu 32